


into the woods

by icarusinflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lawyer Sam Winchester, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, forest guardian!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: When John sends Dean and Sam out to the forest with instructions to make it through the night and meet him the next day, Dean thinks he has it under control.Until it starts snowing.Luckily they find a cabin, and a stranger willing to take them in for the night.Dean thinks that's the end of it - until years later when a familiar looking person turns up on his door.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was all entirely based on the amazing art from [SketchyDean](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/) and you should go show that love [here](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/post/175026675471/for-this-years-deancasreversebang-i-had-the).
> 
>  
> 
> I was so taken by that art, and so delighted when I claimed it that I immediately _freaked out_. So you should all go check it out for sure.

They’ve been walking all day now. The sun has reached the crest of the sky, and is now falling, and there still doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Even though Dean can no longer see the sun in the sky the shadows tell him they’re walking in the right direction. Soon they’ll have the stars to guide them, which Dean has managed before but he’s more worried about the temperature dropping, more worried about Sammy, who is already fading. Dean had carried Sam on his back for a while, but he could only do that so long, and he knew he wouldn’t be able keep that up through the night. But the alternative is stopping and Dad’s second rule for survival is _‘you stop — you die’._

His stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn’t eaten a meal since breakfast. He’d given the protein bar out of his pocket to Sam. He knows Sam had a bag of gummy bears in his pocket this morning, so he hopes he’s been eating those. Last time Dad dropped him off like this Dean had food in his pockets, but Dean hadn’t been expecting it this time, hadn’t taken Dad’s words seriously — that had been his mistake though.

Only now they were both paying for it.

Dad’s first lesson is _‘know your surroundings, know what you’re up against’_ and because of Dean’s mistake he didn’t get to prepare beforehand. But he can see what they’re up against now and he’s starting to think they’re outmatched.

He’s not telling Sammy that though. He’s gotta be strong for Sam, got to keep them going, keep them moving.

Even if he doesn’t have any idea where he’s taking them.

He’ll keep them walking until they find something, or they can’t walk on anymore.

The pull on his hand alerts him to the fact Sammy is falling behind again, dragging his feet — sore and tired from the day of walking. Dean’s own feet are dragging even as he tries to remember that he _needs_ to keep moving.

They can’t keep moving through the night. The stars might guide them but the moonlight won’t be enough for them to see the way. There’s a risk of predators, or injury, and with the way the temperature is dropping Dean’s worried about that too.

There’s only one answer — they need to find shelter. Beside him Sammy stumbles, and it’s only Dean’s grip on his hand which stops him from falling down. It only confirms his concerns, that they can’t keep going like this.

“Hey,” he says, tugging softly on Sam’s hand, “just a little further and then we can take a break.”

Sam’s hand squeezes his own, and Dean returns the gesture. They just need to find somewhere to stop for the night.

Keep walking, find somewhere to shelter. It can’t be that hard, right?

The sight of the cabin stalls him, pulling him up short, and Sammy bumps into him. He’s not sure how deep they are in the forest, but the sight of a house isn’t expected, and immediately has Dean feeling suspicious.

Dean is dragged from his thoughts by Sam asking, “Are we here?” His voice is hopeful.

Dean opens his mouth, but no words come out. He can’t bring himself to say no, can’t break the hope he can hear in his brothers voice. From here Dean can see the light through the cabin windows — a sure sign that someone is home and that they should _get out of here_. They don’t know the person in there, don’t know what they’ll say when two boys turn up on their doorstep.

Dean chews his lip, weighing up their options. He tries to think about what Dad would do — but he shakes his head at that — Dad would have been prepared, and wouldn’t be stuck in this situation in the first place.

But Dean is, and Sammy with him. Dean has to consider Sammy’s health, has to consider the chatter of Sammy’s teeth, the way his hand is barely warm, even in Dean’s.

The first rule of _everything_ , more important than survival, more important than Dean’s health is always _‘take care of your brother’_ and that makes his mind up for him.

“Come on,” Dean says, with another squeeze of Sam’s hand. Dean will deal with one situation at a time. For now, they need shelter. They can try and take advantage of the cabin in front of them, maybe even get something to eat and a drink. Tomorrow they can sneak out if it looks like there might be trouble. It’s only for the night. “Let’s check it out.”

Sammy leads first, feet moving faster now they have an end in sight, and he tugs Dean’s hands in his own.

Dean drags his feet, keeping a tight grip on Sam’s hand. The house is still unknown. He repeats his mantra to himself _take care of your brother, take care of your brother, take care of Sam_ as if that will somehow ward off any danger — it can’t hurt to try. There’s a path cleared to the cabin, which seems strange considering there’d been no path leading up to it, but Dean lets Sam start them down the path to the front door.

Dean starts to think about how to handle the situation. The cabin looks like someone is home, but they could be out, and he thinks they can start by peeking through the windows, checking out the house. If it’s empty maybe they can sneak in. If there are people in there he can scope them out before they try knocking on the door.

The plan is completely ruined when the door swings open to reveal a silhouette of a person standing in the doorframe. Dean can’t make out the person from the distance, and the lighting behind them doesn’t help, but his feet stall, and his breath catches. He tightens his grip on Sam’s hand, pulling him in tight just in case this is when it all goes wrong.

Dean holds his breath for a moment, their progress paused as the shadow of a person looks at them. He gives what he hopes is a _‘I’m not afraid of you’_ look, though he’s not even sure if the person can see it from the door.

“Hello,” the figure calls out, the voice reaching Dean’s ears easily, even over the distance. It’s strange, considering the fact that it doesn’t even sound like he’s yelling, but Dean hears it nonetheless, “you look cold, would you like to to come inside?”

* * *

The warmth of the cabin is so strong Dean almost feels like he’s being hit with a gust of warm air as he approaches the door and steps inside. The fire is lit, flames licking logs and crackling audibly, and Dean and Sam have barely walked past the stranger before Sam drops his hand, closing the distance to the fire in a few quick steps before dropping to sit in front of the fireplace and extending his hands out in front of him — almost perilously close to the flames.

Dean pauses, still standing in the open door as he assesses the room. The cabin is small, just one room, complete with two twins sets of bunk beds against the far wall, a few items of furniture strewn throughout, and a small kitchenette. It’s a simple set up, and Dean’s seen the likes of it before — these are camping cabins, set up for travellers who need a place to stay the night. There’s just something about this one that feels weird to Dean, something that leaves him feeling off — even if he can’t pick what it is.

“You’re letting the heat out,” stranger says, dragging Dean from his thoughts and suspicions. “I promise you’ll be safe here. I won’t hurt you.”

“Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt us would say,” Dean points out, but he steps inside anyway, and the stranger closes the door behind him with a click before turning to face Dean.

“What would someone who doesn’t want to hurt you say, then?”

The stranger tips his head slightly, looking at Dean with furrowed brows, his confusion clear across his face. He looks strange, odd, but the expression does seem to make him seem less of a threat, and Dean thinks that the confusion seems real. Confusion is something Dean himself is very familiar with, and it makes him feel a little more at ease in the cabin with the stranger.

“Dunno,” Dean admits, “probably the same I guess.”

“I mean you no harm,” stranger says, his words sounding a little stilted, and Dean wonders just how much time the dude spends in the forest, how often he socialises with others. The guy doesn’t look much older than Dean, he’d guess a few years older maybe, he’s about Dean’s height, but there’s something about him that looks older. It could be something in his eyes — they’re a stunning blue that Dean feels almost trapped by, but there’s something about the way that the stranger stares that makes Dean feel like those eyes have seen more things than someone would expect.

The stranger stares a little too hard, and Dean wants to look away, to duck away from the almost blistering gaze from those blue eyes, but he can’t seem to break eye contact.

It’s Sam that breaks the spell, a thud coming from his direction and Dean whirls, turning to find the source of the sound, brain already racing with concern for Sam. Except it’s just Sam dropping his boots as he rips those off. Sam follows it up with the removal of his socks and his jacket, then he leans back on his butt, stretching his toes out and wiggling his toes in front of the active fire.

“Come on Dean,” Sammy calls out when he sees Dean watching him, “Come sit in front of the fire, it’s nice and warm.”

“In a minute dude,” Dean calls back, turning back to the stranger. He’s once again under the scrutiny of those deep blues, but Dean doesn’t let himself get distracted by them this time. He’s not yet sure it’s safe here, and he’s not gonna relax yet, but he’s not gonna be a dick because of it. This is probably their only chance at spending the night, and Dean’s not gonna ruin that because he can’t be polite.

Dean rubs his neck as he mumbles out, “Thanks.”

Stranger nods his head, “I have some food cooking if you’re hungry.”

Dean’s stomach rumbles as if summoned by the words, and he’s reminded of the fact he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, “I’d like that.”

The stranger nods, and turns as if to walk away.

“Hey,” Dean says, and stranger pauses, turning his attention back to Dean, “I’m Dean, and that slob,” he thumbs over his shoulder in the direction of the figure by the fire, “is Sam.”

He hears a yelp of indignation from behind him, but he ignores it, eyes still on the stranger.

“And you are?” Dean prompts.

“Castiel,” the stranger — Castiel replies.

“Castiel,” Dean tests the name out, and it sounds awkward, clunky from his mouth. He tries something else instead. “Cas,” he tries, and that sounds better, sounds _right_ in a way that Dean can’t explain. Cas smiles, a small thing, but there nonetheless, and Dean feels his own lips turn up at the corner in reflection.

“Thank you for taking us in Cas.”

* * *

They have dinner in front of the fire, legs crossed as they eat vegetable stew out of dented metal bowls. Sam doesn’t even finish his stew before he starts listing beside him, and out of the corner of his eye Dean sees him swaying. He scoops the bowl out of Sam’s lap, placing it and his own empty bowl on the floor, before he pulls Sam to his feet. Sam is docile and cooperative in a way that he never is fully conscious. Dean uses his arm around Sam’s shoulder to direct him to the bed, pushing him into the bottom bunk bed. He pulls the sheets back over Sam, ruffling his hair before tucking the blankets in tight to his sides, tucking Sam in tight. It’s something Dean remembers Mom doing for them, and Sam’s growing out of it now, had laughed Dean off last time he’d tried to do it, but there’s some part of Dean that thinks it will somehow keep Sam safer, will keep away all the dangers.

When he walks back to the fire Cas has already taken the bowls away, and Dean sits back down, leaning back against his arms as he stretches his feet out in front of him to rest in front of the fire.

He’s not feeling tired yet — the day has been exhausting — but he’s still feeling wired from everything, and he’s still not quite ready to relax around Cas.

Castiel doesn’t say a word as he sits beside Dean with his legs folded, sitting ramrod straight. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Cas’s eyes on him, face turned halfway between Dean and the fire. It feels awkward, and the silence that drags out between them doesn’t help.

Castiel hasn’t shared any information about himself, but he also hasn’t asked any questions of Dean and Sam. Dean’s itching to ask why Cas is here, why he’s in the forest in such bad weather, and why he’d cooked so much food, but he doesn’t want to have to explain his own presence in the forest. Dean isn’t willing to break the wordless sort of truce they’ve come to, and so Cas remains a mystery.

He needs to do something.

There’s a table behind him, complete with shelves, and Dean turns away from the warmth of the fire to look through it. He’s been in these sorts of cabins before, and there’s always stuff to pass the time for whatever sorry person chooses to use this as a home for the night. This one is no different, and Dean finds a teen novel, a few local books, a map of the park (which he makes note of, but leaves where it is for now), a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, and a box of cards.

Dean turns back to Castiel with the jigsaw and cards in his hands. He’s unsurprised to find those sharp blue eyes watching him, and this time Dean doesn’t shy away from his gaze, holding the eye contact.

“Puzzle or cards?”

Castiel’s eyebrows raise, but he seems to consider the two items Dean holds out carefully, taking his time as he inspects them. The silence drags on as Castiel studies both items carefully, and Dean almost thinks he will have to ask again when Castiel reaches out to tap the box of cards in his hands.

“Cards.”

“Alrighty.” Dean shoves the jigsaw back into the shelf behind him without looking, and he opens the box of cards. The cards he pulls out are worn, corners fraying, and many have bends or creases in them from maltreatment, but they’ll still work. Dean works to shuffle the cards, familiar movements in his hands, and he does an overhand shuffle to start with, then does the fancier riffle shuffle. He picks the cards back up and returns to  shuffling them overhand as he asks, “What card games do you know?”

“I don’t know any.”

The answer is unexpected, but not problematic, and Dean deals out seven cards for each of them, alternating between them. “Alright we’re gonna play Go Fish. Since there’s only two of us we’re gonna play for pairs not fours — it’ll be easier that way, trust me. Pick up your cards, and if you have any pairs, you can place them face down in front of you.” Dean looks at his own cards, he doesn’t have any pairs, but he reorders the cards anyway, sorting from lowest to highest how he likes. Castiel examines his own cards but doesn’t reorder them. Dean waits until Cas finishes him, bright blue eyes looking up to him again before he continues. “So the goal is to get pairs. You ask me for a card you want to get. If I have the card I’ll give it to you, if not I say ‘go fish’ and you need to pick up a card. The aim is to have the most pairs at the end. Make sense?”

Cas seems to be listening carefully, and he nods at Dean’s question.

“‘Kay, you go first. Ask me for a card dude,” Dean says, shooting Cas a grin.

“Do you have a four?” Cas asks, after a moment's consideration of his hand.

“Go fish,” Dean says, with more than a little joy, watching as Castiel picks up a card from the pile.

Dean asks for eights, and is rewarded with the first pair as Castiel hands over the card he’d just picked up from the deck. The game continues, and when it finishes, Castiel still holding a lonesome four of hearts, Dean concludes that the deck is missing it’s partner. Dean manages to win the first round, and suggests another round, and this time Castiel seems to be getting the hang of it, asking for cards he knows Dean has when he gets the chance, and Cas beats him by just one more pair. They start a third game, but Dean’s brain is starting to slow from fatigue, and he can’t seem to remember the cards Castiel has asked for on even the round before. Castiel manages to take out the game, this time with a formidable pile.

“Alright I think that’s enough for the night,” Dean says, collecting the two piles from in front of them, and adding the lone four they’d removed from the pack after the first game back in. He gives the cards a quick and lazy overhand, not nearly enough of a shuffle to break up the pairs, but it’s up to the next person to deal with that problem.

“Good night Cas,” he says, as he stands up. He pats a hand on Cas’s shoulder as he walks past him, a familiar gesture, one he’s done with Sam a hundred times without thinking, and this time is no different.

“Thank you for playing with me Dean,” Cas calls after him softly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

That stops Dean, his progress faltering for a moment, before he remembers to pick it back up, and Dean hopes the action will be attributed to tiredness and nothing more.

“Same to you buddy,” he says, and he feels an uncharacteristic flash of guilt when he adds, “See you in the morning.”

* * *

It’s still dark when Dean wakes, but there is a hint of light through the window that says dawn is coming. The cabin’s still warm, and when Dean looks around he can see that while the fire may have burned out, what remains in the fireplace is still glowing, lighting the room up in a somewhat eerie glow.

He wants nothing more than to stay in bed.

Stifling the groan he wants to releases, Dean shifts the covers back, pulling the sheets as gently as he can, and shifting his weight slowly to keep the slats from creaking as he slips out of the bed. His socks muffle his feet against the wood floor, and Dean pads silently around the single room as he gathers their things, collecting his jacket, then Sam’s. He picks the map out from the shelves, stuffing it into his jeans pocket. He pilfers some trail mix from the kitchen, and swipes a water bottle too, shoving those into the deeper pockets of his jacket.

He wakes Sam with a shake to his shoulder and a hand over his mouth to stop Sam from making noise. Sam’s eyes flash open in panic, but as soon as he sees it’s Dean they calm, and Sam follows Dean’s hand movements to hop out of bed. Sam’s movements sound loud to Dean’s ears in the cabin, echoing in the room, but when he looks over to the bed Cas had taken he’s still curled up in the same position as before, still looks like he’s asleep, and Dean allows himself an exhale of relief.

They carry their shoes as they walk towards the door, only putting them on when they are standing by the wall. Dean takes a moment to look over Sam when he’s done, winding his scarf around Sam’s neck another time, and pulling it up to cover his mouth and nose too. It will be cold outside and Dean wants Sam to be as ready as he can be.

When Sam’s ready he takes one final look around the cabin. For the most part it’s exactly as it had been when they got here, bedding pulled back in place. Dean had only taken what he needed but he still feels a minor flash of guilt at that, and he hopes Castiel isn’t too angry when he wakes up. He doesn’t seem the sort to be, but then again, being stolen from will often change that.

Dean turns the handle carefully and slowly, careful not to make a noise. Opening the door is an unpleasant shock — just because Dean had been expecting the cold doesn’t make it any less chilling — and he sees Sam’s eyes widen in shock at it. Dean would let them wait longer if he could, but he still doesn’t know Castiel, and he doesn’t want to take the chance. Better to get them moving while they can, and the sooner they do the sooner they can get back out and find Dad.

Dean casts his eyes around the room just once more, and out of the corner of his eyes he swears he sees movement, a flash of blue. Dean turns his head so quick it almost hurts, eyes drawn to the bed where Castiel had been sleeping, afraid of what he will see.

Only to find Castiel still asleep in the exact same position as before.

It was nothing. Probably just his imagination.

With one final look — his actual final look he promises himself — he says goodbye to the cabin, to Castiel and the warmth, before stepping outside into the cold forest and closing the door gently behind him.

Sam looks up at him forlornly, and Dean feels a pang in his chest. “Do we gotta?” He asks, words thick with sleep still.

“Come on champ,” Dean says, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “I’ll give you a piggyback.” Dean pulls the map from his pocket, bringing it up to wave in front of Sam’s face. ”We’ll be at the meet up in no time.”

Sam nods, and when Dean crouches down for him he clambers onto his back, wrapping his arms tight around Dean’s neck without strangling him. Dean holds one of Sam’s legs in one hand, and the map in the other. The map must have belonged to someone who had walked out before — there are scribbles all over it, marking out paths and an X with ‘shelter’ written on it.

Dean decides to take his chance on that being their shelter, and heads east, hoping to cut across and join up with a path marked on the map. He shoves the map back into his pocket, turns towards the hint of light he can see peeking through the trees.

Sam’s breath is loud against his ear, but otherwise the forest is silent, too early for the animals to come out in the winter — too early for anyone with any sort of sense to be out. There’s no one around, but Dean feels the hair on his neck prickle in a way that has nothing to do with Sam’s hot breath. He feels like he’s being watched, feels like he’d felt last night with Castiel watching him sit in front of the fire, but when he turns around, spinning to look at the cabin first, then around the clearing, there’s nothing there.

_All in your head_ , he tells himself, as he grips Sam’s other leg, and gives a little jump to hoist him further up, _there’s nothing dumb enough in the forest to be out here watching_.

But the feeling remains.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean has a schedule. By the time Friday rolls around, he’s so done with the week that he collapses on his couch with a beer in his hand, and indulges in shows that he wouldn’t admit he watches to anyone. Not Benny, not Sam, not anyone. It’s the highlight of living alone again. He gets these nights to himself and he gets to watch whatever he wants.

Tonight that show is Lucifer.

It’s a questionable show at best, but made better by the booze and the week’s exhaustion. More importantly, he  _ enjoys _ his nights, enjoys the time alone and the way that he doesn’t need to make space for anyone to be alone with him. It’s perfection.

Perfection made slightly less pleasant by a knock at his door. 

Dean pauses the show. Lucifer may be of questionable quality, but he still doesn’t want to miss any of it. 

The knocks at the door comes again, persistent and ongoing and  _ annoying. _

“I’m coming,” Dean grumbles, his beer bottle swinging from his fingers. When he flicks the deadlock the knocking finally stops, and he unlocks the heavy wooden door. He yanks the door open to find a man standing there, framed in the illumination coming from the security light.

The man in his door frame looks unhealthy, sunken cheeks and bags beneath his eyes. There’s a sickly glow to his skin that reminds Dean of the beggars sometimes in the city, and he looks exhausted.

And yet somehow the man looks familiar, there’s something about his stark cheekbones, his dark messy hair, and his stunning blue eyes that seem familiar in a way Dean can’t place.

When the man opens his mouth and says, “Hello Dean Winchester,” Dean feels his world tilt sideways.

He may not recognise the man in front of him, but the voice — the voice he recognises instantly, sending him back to a time when Dean and Sam had been lost in the cold, deep forest, with their hope fading. Back to a night when a stranger had taken them in and fed them, before Dean had snuck them out in the morning without so much as a goodbye.

“I need a favour.”

* * *

Castiel shifts uncomfortably in the living room, and Dean is taken back to a night years ago — it must be close to twenty years now — when Dean had sat with this man in front of a fireplace and played card games. Except the man had been a boy then, and not even that apparently. Castiel explains slowly, and Dean can’t help but gawk at the man in front of him as he explains what he really is — a forest guardian, that he’s lived in that forest for hundreds of years, too many to keep track off.

“Why are you here? Why now?” Dean blurts out, when Castiel finishes his story. It doesn’t even occur to him to question the story, or to question the reality of  _ forest guardians _ being a thing. There’d always been something about that night in the forest that stuck out to Dean, something about the strangeness of finding Castiel, or Castiel himself, and something about the feeling of the forest watching them that Dean had never been able to really shake. When they’d finally made it out of the forest and to their Dad waiting at the designated waiting point, he’d told his dad only the basics, that they’d used a forest cabin for shelter, and found food and rations there. The explanation had seemed to appease John, and later Dean had sworn Sam to secrecy, joking that it could be their secret.

Dean watches as sadness blooms across Cas’s face, and Dean feels attrocious for his words, though he’s not sure why they caused such a reaction — only that they have.

“I needed somewhere to stay,” Castiel says, after long enough that Dean thinks maybe he won’t get an answer. “My forest was cut down.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, the words coming out stilted and honest but entirely  _ inadequate _ , just as inadequate as Dean feels in this situation. “You can stay here of course. Anything you need.”

Cas nods. “Thank you, I will need help.” He sways where he sits on the couch, eyes dropping closed.

“I think you need sleep right now buddy,” Dean says, reaching forward to place his hand on Cas’s gently, to stop his swaying.

“The journey was long,” Castiel admits, and his body might have stopped swaying but his eyelids are still drooping, losing the battle to keep his eyes open. “I would like to rest.”

“Rest you shall, dude. Come on, I’ll set you up with some clothes and a bed.”

Castiel is pliant as Dean leads him, going through the motions of removing his clothes and replacing them with Dean’s sleeping pants. When he’s done Dean leads him to the bed, before tucking the man in, carefully tucking him in like he used to for Sammy.

When he’s done he walks back out to the living room, picking up his beer — now luke warm after being abandoned, and chugs it down.

_ “What the fuck?”  _ He asks softly to the empty room.

He needs another beer.

* * *

Castiel is still asleep when Dean leaves for work the next day. He works Saturday mornings at the garage for extra cash. Today it also serves to get him out of the house and away from the  _ forest guardian  _ who may still be sleeping in his spare room. Ex-forest guardian. Currently homeless forest guardian. He doesn’t know the etiquette of forest guardianship.

Physical distance does nothing to help with distracting his thoughts. His brain is elsewhere, and by the end of the day he’s managed to pinch his finger in a gearbox, drop a tyre on his foot, and give himself a  _ mild _ electrocution while installing spark plugs. 

Bobby notices his lack of attention and when Dean washes up, swinging by the office to say his goodbyes he asks “Girl problems?”

“No,” Dean says with a shake of his head. If there’s one downside to your boss also being your surrogate father, it’s that Bobby knows just about everything about Dean, including his wonderful dating history.

“Guy problems?”

Including the fact that his dating history isn’t limited just to chicks. It’s not something Dean’s ashamed of, sometimes he dates chicks, sometimes he dates dudes — the gender is less important than the fact that it always ends up shit.

Still he would have liked Bobby to find out a different way — will never be able to wipe the memory of Bobby catching him and Marcus fooling around in the backseat of a rusty tarago in Bobby’s yard.

“No.” Dean tells himself it’s not really a lie, trying not to think of the ex-forest-guardian he’d put to bed last night. He’s not human — forest-guardians, even ex ones, aren’t human — so that makes him technically not a guy.

“Just don’t bring it into work again,” Bobby says with a shake of his head. “I don’t want any more thrown oil.”

“That was one time!” Dean yells as he leaves the office. One time that may have resulted in an ex throwing oil over one of the cars in the garage — resulting in lost oil, and Dean having to come in on his weekend to clean the car and the garage out. Not the best of times.

But it was only once. 

* * *

The house is quiet when Dean arrives home, and for a moment he thinks Cas may have left the house, sneaking out of the house like Dean had once done so many years ago. His heart is racing as he pushes open the door to the spare bedroom — looking for, expecting, fearing that he will find an empty room, find no trace of Castiel and —

Castiel is sitting on the bed with his legs folded, attention locked on the wall opposite the headboard — or it is until it jerks to where Dean stands in the door frame. He hardly looks comfortable, but he is  _ here _ and Dean takes a deep breath of relief.

“Hey,” he says after a beat. “I just need to take a shower, wash all the dirt and grime off me, and then we can discuss stuff if you want?”

Cas nods, and Dean walks away reassured, if not calm. He races through his shower, mind racing as he thinks about all the things he knows, all the things he doesn’t know about Castiel. He rushes the shower. His job as a mechanic means he needs to wash thoroughly, needs to scrub the oil and dirt from his hands, but he struggles with it, mind still distracted by the thought of Castiel sitting in his living room.

Cas is waiting in the kitchen when Dean finishes his shower, and Dean gets Castiel a glass of water and grabs himself a beer. It’s after midday and he needs one to deal with the situation in front of him. It’s not every day you have a creature of the forest in your house. 

The man in front of him was once the boy who had taken Dean and Sam in over ten years ago. Dean’s having a little difficulty reconciling this person with the kid he’d met once, who took them in and fed them sheltered them for the night. When he looks at Castiel he sees the familiarities, but it’s like looking at your own reflection through a circus mirror, but every now and then he sees something, an expression, or a mannerism that strikes him as familiar. 

He finishes the beer with a few deep pulls, throwing it in the trash, before grabbing a new beer from the fridge, popping the top against the counter with a familiar ease. 

“So,” Dean says, “Forest guardian, huh?”

“I was,” the not human responds, his eyebrows pulling in pain.

Dean feels a twinge of pain at that and smothers it with a mouthful of the beer. The beer does nothing to wash away the guilt he feels at his words, and he tries again, tries for a softer tone when he asks, “What happened?”

“It was... removed. Slowly at first. First there were a few trees cut down, then a few more, houses started being built and roads, and then…” 

Castiel’s words drift off, but it’s enough that Dean knows what’s going on, can get the idea. The forest is gone, lost to progress, or something masquerading as it. Yet another casualty in the ever-expanding city they live in.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, and he means it. He knows what it feels like to lose your home. Still remembers when a chance fire had taken away both his house and his mom, taking almost everything he considered to be home in one fell swoop.

“What can I do to help?”

“I need to find a new home,” Castiel tells him. Castiel holds out his hand and for a moment Dean thinks Castiel is asking for something, maybe Dean’s hand, or something else, but when Dean looks at Cas’s hand he sees a seed resting in his palm. “If I plant this, and care for it, then I will have a home again.”

* * *

Homes don’t come easy, but in the meantime Dean helps by putting together something to eat. Castiel eats the hastily thrown together sandwich then Dean shepherds him back to bed. He looks like he needs it, and Dean can’t shake the memory of the warm bed that Cas had once offered him and Sam, the safety and shelter in the storm, and it pulls at something in Dean, makes him want to return the favour.

When he checks the next morning, Castiel is still sleeping. He breathes a sigh of relief that he’s still there before closing the door softly. Dean pulls his phone from his pocket, fingers typing out the familiar number for Sam before bringing the phone to his ear. He pads outside softly, closing the door behind him, his toes cold against the wood of the porch. He listens to the dial tone and is just contemplating going back inside for a pair of socks or shoes when the line goes active

“Dean?” Sam asks, his voice thick with sleep and confusion. Dean hadn’t even thought about the time. He always remembered the times when they lived together during Sam’s college years, when Sam would always be up before Dean and off to run track. The thought that for once Dean might have been the one to wake Sam up feels him with both guilt and glee. That’s what happens when you have a newborn baby in the house.

But it does nothing to help the sourness in his stomach at what he has to say.

“Sammy. I need your help.”

Dean hears a sigh, can imagine Sam rubbing at his eyes at the sound.

“Is it a girl problem, Dean?”

“What? No—”

“Is it a guy problem?” Sam asks, his voice exasperated.

“No!” Dean refutes, before adding, “Well, yes. Kind of. It is a guy—” Sam’s groan comes through the speaker, “but it’s not what you’re thinking.”

Dean sighs, running his hand over his face. Seriously. What the  _ fuck? _ Where does he even start with this.

“Can you just — I just really need you to come over now. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Sam groans again through the line.

“Fine. But so help me if it’s a dude on your couch again that you want me to chase off I will hurt you. You will regret it.”

Dean refrains from saying that was  _ one time _ . Aaron was a stage four clinger and Dean had tried to tell him he didn’t want a relationship but he was just not taking the hint.

“Just come round dude. I promise it’s not that, I promise I’ll explain.”

“See you soon, jerk.”

* * *

Dean is leaning against the kitchen counter, bouncing his leg with anxiety, when he hears Sam’s Prius pull up in the driveway, the soft hum and crunch of a welcome interruption from Dean’s thoughts. He pushes away from the kitchen bench, moving to the door to open it before Sam can knock on it. 

Sam looks worse for wear, and he struggles out of the Prius in a way that Dean loves to watch, the undignified unfolding of his legs, impeded even further by his obvious fatigue. It’s usually a source of amusement to Dean, that while he has the Impala with enough leg room for the Harlem Globetrotters, Sam has to fold into the Prius — today though Dean barely cracks a smile.

Dean opens the door to Sam, and Sam hands him a cup of shitty roadhouse coffee that Dean would usually turn his nose up at, but he's desperate, and he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth today.

“Hey,” he greets his goliath of a brother, taking the offered cup to his nose, breathing in the strong, if slightly burnt, smell of coffee, “thanks for coming over.”

“Sure,” Sam mumbles, pushing inside and flopping onto the couch, coffee cup clutched between his hands. He sips his coffee, and Dean leans against the kitchen bench, placing his too hot coffee cup on the bench as he waits Sam out, giving him a chance to wake up properly and become more conscious. He’s guessing Sam’s running on minimal sleep here — can only remember him being like this on the worst of late night cram sessions. 

Or he intends to. The door to the spare room opens, and Castiel-the-no-longer-forest-guardian tumbles out. He’s wearing the sweatpants Dean leant him, and nothing else, torso naked. Dean had specifically given him a t-shirt. He’d given him a comfortable well worn t-shirt which was one of his favourites and Cas is very much not wearing it. 

Dean is aware what it looks like. 

CastieltheDistractinglyTopless stumbles towards Dean, and for a moment Dean is worried that he’s going to come to Dean, that this will play out exactly like it looks like, but then he stops short at the bench. His eyes drop down to the cup Dean had left on the counter. Dean can read that look, and he’s not sure when a forest-guardian would have ever got the chance to sample coffee, but he pushed the cup towards him nonetheless, watching as the exhausted ex-forest-guardian brings the cup to his lips, taking deep pulls while Dean watches his Adam's Apple bob with each gulp.

Dean tears his eyes away from Castiel, looking back at Sam. The knowing look on Sam’s face makes him roll his eyes, but he knows he has something that can wipe that look off his face.

“Sam, meet Castiel,” he says, waving his hand in the direction of the not-a-human drinking his coffee still. “You may remember him from that time we took shelter in his cabin in the woods. Apparently Castiel wasn’t just some random dude in the forest, but he was the forest guardian. That forest has now been chopped — reclamation and all that or whatever, and he needs our help.” 

Beside him he can still hear the noisy gulps from Cas, but he doesn’t care about that, not when Sam’s mouth has fallen open, eyes flicking between Castiel and himself.

Dean sees the recognition register on Sam’s face.

“Fuck,” Sam whispers.

“He needs our help.”

* * *

It might be years since Sam has been out of college but he slips into researching like he never left it. Pulling Dean’s laptop from the coffee table, he opens it up only to wince at the screen when it loads. Dean’s passed being embarrassed by Sam seeing his porn. They lived together while Sam was at college, and at this stage, there’s probably nothing that could surprise Sam.

Sam fiddles around with the laptop for a moment, then looks up at Castiel and Dean at the kitchen bench.

“So you’re looking for a forest?” Sam asks.

“Yes,” Castiel replies, his voice sad and his expression even moreso. “One without a forest guardian preferably. We do not like to share.”

“Right,” Sam types into the laptop. “Forest, no guardian.” His fingers cease there movement and he looks up again, brows drawing in confusion. “Is there someway I could find that out?”

Castiel looks pensive, and his head tilts to the side as he looks at Sam.

“I am.. not sure. A forest that was struggling perhaps. Or a new forest. I’ve never had to find one before.”

Dean looks at Sam, seeing the concern in his eyes mirrored there. 

“So you’ve always been in that forest?” Dean asks, “Nowhere else?”

“No,” Castiel replies somberly. “I’d never left the forest. Not since I became its guardian”

That gets Dean’s attention, and Sam’s too by the look of it. 

“You  _ became _ the forest guardian?” Sam asks

“I was once human,” Cas replies, “When I was young, younger than the age when you visited me, I wandered into the forest. The forest saved me, and in return I became it’s guardian when I was old enough.” 

“How old?” Dean blurts out before he can stop the words. 

Castiel frowns down at his own hands, “I am unsure. I have watched my forest grow out and shrink back in, as if the trees breathe against the land. I have seen fires tear through my forest, and nurtured its recovery. I have seen trees live out their lives, seen the passages of times and the changing of weather more times than I can count. I have seen all of these things.”

Castiel looks up at Dean, pinning him with his deep blue eyes that remind Dean less of the forest, and more of the ocean and it’s enduring depths across time.

“I have seen all of these things,” he repeats, his voice sad, and it feels like a strike in his heart, “and now I have seen my forest die.”

There’s nothing he can do — probably nothing he could have done about the forest, but Dean still feels guilty at the words. Castiel lost his forest, his home, his everything, probably for some stupid houses and tables. The forest is gone now, and everything feels irreparably broken, Dean thinks, looking at this being sitting at the table across from him who has lost everything — who  _ is _ broken.

“I’m sorry,” Dean chokes out, his voice cracking on the words. He reaches across the table to place his hand over Castiel’s where he still holds the coffee cup. He rubs his thumb gently against the skin there, hoping the gesture is appreciated. Belatedly, he realises this is the first time they’ve touched since Castiel first turned up on his doorstep Friday night, when he first asked for help from Dean. Castiel doesn’t pull his hand away though, and Dean takes that as a sign to continue, stroking the skin of Castiel's hand beneath his own in a way he hopes is somewhat soothing — just like his mom used to do when she held his hand if he was ever scared or upset. He wants to help, wants to give Castiel all the help he can. “We’re gonna do everything we can to help you Cas,” he says, the nickname slipping easily off his tongue, without any conscious decision to do so. 

“We’ll find you a new forest,” Sam’s voice interrupts them, and Dean tears his eyes away from Cas’s, eyes shooting back to his brother on the couch.

His brother returns his attention to the laptop, his fingers flying over the keys with ease. He pulls a notebook and pencil from the middle of the table, flicking past Dean’s snippets of sketches to find a blank page. 

Dean doesn’t move from where he leans against the kitchen bench, eyes still on his brother, but his hand is still on Castiel’s, thumb still stroking the skin gently.

* * *

Sam asks questions as he researches, how big does the forest need to be, how old, does the location matter — Cas is unsure of the first two, stating only that it was a  _ feeling _ , he’d know when he went into the forest but the last one he is surprisingly stubborn on.

“This is my home,” Castiel states with conviction, “I will not move away.”

“Okay,” Sam agrees, easily, “we’ll find you something close.”

Sam continues to research, and eventually Dean leaves his position next to Cas to move around the house, trying to find things to busy himself to avoid thinking about how much  _ he can’t do _ to help. He washes all the clothes in his laundry basket, before moving onto the sheets and towels. He makes sweet potato hash from one of Missouri’s recipes, feeding Sam and Cas. As he leans against the kitchen bench, watching over them, he thinks that he’s probably never been so productive on a Sunday in his life. He’s usually content to laze away the day, only doing what he has to. 

Sam seems content with the laptop, only moving to find the charger in the early afternoon. Sam always looks at home to Dean in front of a laptop — although that could just be from all the years they lived together while Sam made his way through law school.

Castiel though — Dean turns his attention to the not-quite-man still at his kitchen table, almost in the exact same position he has been in all day. He stands out, his discomfort obvious in the way he’s standing ramrod straight and staring out the window. Dean feels sorry for him — he’s always been the person who can never leave someone in discomfort, too used to that feeling of not belonging after a lifetime of being the odd kid out thanks to his ‘nutcase father’.

Castiel probably feels out of place Dean realises with a little shock. He’s from the forest, and Dean’s had him cooped up inside since Friday.

Dean leans across the kitchen bench to tap Castiel’s shoulder, drawing his attention, eyes shooting up to look at Dean.

Those stunning blue eyes cause him to lose his train of thought for a moment.

“Come on,” he says, when his brain graces him with its presence again, “we’re going out.”

Cas’s brows furrow at him, but Dean doesn’t let that deter him. “We’re gonna go for a walk,” Dean tells him, jerking his head in the direction of his front door. Louder, to Sam, he says, “Be back later.”

Sam waves and grunts, which is about as much of an acknowledgment as Dean is expecting, so Dean wastes no time grabbing his keys and making for the door, holding it open for Castiel, who follows close behind. Dean leads the way as they walk down the street in silence. Castiel sticks close, shoulders bumping together as they walk. Dean isn’t sure if it’s just from Castiel being unaware of personal boundaries, or if he’s sticking close for another reason. For Castiel this is all unfamiliar territory — the streets with houses, the cars, the people. It’s pretty different from what his home would have included, and with a lot less trees. 

Dean hopes that he can help with that — if only a little. 

Dean walks them to the park near his house. It’s nothing special, just a few trees and a playground. He walks to the park bench, taking a seat and gesturing for Castiel to do the same.

“I thought you might like to get out of the house,” Dean says after Castiel sits down. “I know it’s not a forest, but I — I thought it might be better.”

He doesn’t look at Cas, instead casting his eyes out over the park. They do Lacrosse and Archery in the park somedays, but it’s thankfully not in use at the moment. He can see a few people walking dogs, and the excited screams of children reach his ears from the playground. Despite all that, when Dean shoots a glance at Cas he looks calmer, his body language more relaxed than Dean’s seen him since he first turned up on Dean’s doorstep.

He lets the silence draw out between them, watching the people in the park, but keeping an eye on Cas. It’s only when the sun has fallen beneath the horizon, when everyone has left the park, and the streetlights have been turned on, that Dean finally turns to Castiel.

“You ready to head home?” 

Castiel nods, following Dean as he stands from the bench and leads them back home — to Dean’s home, at least. The walk is quiet, neither of them breaking the silence, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable as they walk the distance back to Dean’s.

“Thank you,” Castiel says, just before they reach the door.

The words warm Dean more than he’d care to admit. Castiel hasn’t said a lot since his first plea for help. 

Sam’s waiting for them when they come back inside, no longer sitting in front of the laptop, and Dean notices the beer in his hand. That and the fact that he has actually moved tell Dean what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

“I think I’ve found a place.”

* * *

Dean falls into a rhythm of sorts with Cas. It’s like having Charlie over. Except Cas is a not a red-headed lesbian.

He’s not even human.

He comes to think of Cas as a visitor, only instead of showing Cas the sights of the city, he shows him human things.

He cooks Cas burgers on Monday, and sits him down on the couch to watch Dirty Dancing and expose him to the wonder of Patrick Swayze. On Tuesday he makes chilli and they watch Star Wars. They end up staying up late to finish out the original trilogy, leaving Dean to yawn his way through work on Wednesday. His tiredness doesn’t stop him from making Cas meatloaf — a family recipe passed on to him from Bobby and Karen — and watching the Indiana Jones movies. Thursday Dean buys chinese take away, and they watch old Scooby Doo cartoons from the couch as they eat straight out of the containers.

Cas seems to take a particular liking to egg rolls, and Dean hands over his portion without any complaint. Dean watches Cas as he eats his rolls, his own chow mein forgotten in his lap. Cas is focused on the show, eyes locked on the screen. Cas isn’t even watching as his fingers reach for the egg rolls on his plate; his fingers finding the food and dipping it haphazardly in the sauce before lifting it to his mouth. Cas always shovels food into his face like he’s starving and this time is no different. He manages half of the egg roll into his mouth in one go, managing to smear the special sauce across his lips in the process. Cas’s tongue darting out to lick the sauce from his lips is what finally forces Dean to tear his eyes away from Cas, turning his attention back to the TV and the Mystery Gang.

He’s well aware he finds Cas attractive. He’s known that since he first opened the door. Castiel is gorgeous, all harsh lines with cutting cheekbones. His eyes are so vibrant that Dean thinks he could get lost in them for days. Dean thinks he might not mind it as much as should.

It’s an even worse idea than he usually has. He’s also well aware of his atrocious dating record — if it can even be called that. Dean’s been through break up after break up. He’s not even tried dating since he and Lisa broke up, almost two years ago now. He’s been content with hook ups, and his own right hand since then.

But Cas — Cas seems to push all his buttons. The wide eyed look Cas fixes him with makes something stir in his stomach, a pull he hasn’t felt for a while. He’s thought about it — thought about asking Cas if he’d be interested in starting something — maybe a good luck fuck for the road, a reminder of his time as a human. It’s a terrible idea, and Dean is familiar with terrible idea. And trying to sleep with the ex-forest-guardian is right up there. They’ll be taking Cas out to the forest Saturday, and they’ve only got two days left together. He’s sure Cas can’t wait to get back to the forest, back to what he knows, and Dean wants that — wants Cas to be happy, but he can’t deny that he’ll miss Cas when he’s gone. Cas has carved out a space for himself in Dean’s life in the few days he’s been staying in Dean’s house. Dean’s found himself thinking about things Cas would like, places he’d like to take Cas, experiences he’d like to show him. 

But Cas will be gone Saturday. 

One more day before he leaves.

There’s still so much Dean wants to show him.

His eyes drift back to Cas of their own accord, watching as he shoves the rest of the egg roll into his mouth, wiping his hands on the shirt he’s wearing, one of Dean’s old band shirts. It’s such a human thing to do, something Dean does himself, and when he looks down at his own clothes he sees the evidence of that — greasy fingerprints on his own shirt which mark him as guilty. It’s such a  _ human _ gesture, and Dean’s struck with the thought that five days ago Cas never would have done such a thing. Cas has been slowly relaxing around Dean, becoming more human like. It fills Dean with a sense of  _ something _ that he can’t quite put his finger on.

He doesn’t want it to stop. He wants to keep showing Cas these experiences, keep having Cas learn what it’s like — he wants to show him everything he can about being human and why it’s so great.

Cas’s laughter — another thing he never would have done when he first arrived on Dean’s doorstep — pulls him from his thoughts and Dean can’t help but grin at the sound.

He’d love to hear more of it.

“We should go out tomorrow,” Dean blurts later, when he’s packed up containers from dinner and the leftovers are in the fridge. “It’ll be your last night here. Is there anything you want to do?”

Cas’s eyes shoot from the TV screen — still on Scooby Doo reruns — to look up at Dean. His eyebrows pull together in confusion, an expression that Dean has seen written across his features many times.

“Why?”

Dean walks back over to Cas, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. The position places him too close to Cas, well within the personal space boundaries he’s been trying to enforce on the ex-forest-guardian. Their knees are tight together, almost brushing, but if Dean moves now it will be too obvious that he’s moving  _ away  _ from Castiel. So he stays where he is.

“If you’re... if we go out and find you a new forest on Saturday, then this — all of this, will be over. I just want to make sure you really get to experience this… the whole human experience.”

If this is it — if it’s  _ really _ it — Dean wants to give Cas everything he wants.

“So,” Dean says, swallowing his emotions and his words. “Is there anything you want to do?”

Cas’ gaze focuses on Dean. Dean can hear Scooby Doo playing in the background.

“I don’t know,” Cas admits, “I’m not sure what a human experience is.”

_ Sex _ — the naughty side of his brain supplies, but Dean pushes it down, just like all the unbidden thoughts he’s been having about Cas. Years of actively practicing suppressing his thoughts has made him a pro at that at least.

It would be nice to take Cas out though — show him a good time. Take him on a typical human date — even if Dean is well aware that it’s anything but that. He thinks back to some of the dates he most enjoyed. He thinks of Cassie; thinks of summers spent at the fair when they’d watch the fireworks and then make out on the grass (and sometimes do more in the back of the impala). That was before Cassie left for college — intent on making her way in the world as a journalist — while Dean stayed exactly where he was, left behind. The same place he has remained all these years. 

“We’ll go to the fair,” Dean tells him. He wants to give Cas something fun, something enjoyable before he returns back to his life as a forest guardian. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Cas tells him. Dean feels his face flush at the words. He only hopes he doesn’t disappoint.

* * *

The day passes quickly, in a blur of cars and oil. He’s thankful that it’s only the basic stuff — regular services, nothing too brain consuming, and all of it things he can do without needing all of his thoughts. He doesn’t stop thinking about the fair all day, thinking out a hundred different things for them to do. He wants to take Cas to see everything — he wants to show Cas the ferris wheel and the carnival games and buy him all the carnival food he can stuff in his face. 

The day doesn’t pass quick enough.

Dean’s quick to wrap things up when the day ends, eager to get home, his head already set on the night’s adventure. He works through his shower on muscle memory alone, scrubbing his body in familiar ways, and washing his hair quickly and efficiently. He barely pauses to dry himself off, a quick pass with the towel, and his hair is still dripping as he makes his way back to his bedroom, towel wrapped around his body, before throwing on a worn and comfy pair of jeans, a band tee, and grabbing his familiar jacket.

“Alright,” he says to Cas when he walks back out, combing his wet hair out of his forehead with his fingers, “Are you ready for this?”

* * *

Dean keeps close to Cas as they approach the fair gates. The crowd is strong, everyone excited to get in on a Friday night. It’s the first time that Dean considers that this may not have been a great idea.  It’s crowded, a far cry from what Cas is used to. The crowd is loud; around him he can hear the sounds of music, of fair games and there’s something being said over the PA that Dean can’t quite make out over the noise. Dean places his hand on Cas’s back, leaning in to bump their shoulders together as he uses the hand to direct Cas towards the line, going with the flow of the crowd.

“Will this be okay?” Dean leans into Castiel to ask, speaking the words directly into Cas’s ear. “If it’s too much we can go home.”

They’ve joined the entry line, and when the line moves forward Cas doesn’t. Dean doesn’t press him, content to let it go if that’s what Cas wants, this can be it, they can go home, leave the noise and people all behind.

Cas’s head turns, looking at Dean and their eyes lock. It’s too close; Dean is still leaning into Cas’s space, and his nose is practically bumping into Dean’s. He can feel the huff of breath against his own lips and Dean knows he should move away, should put some space between them, but he can’t bring himself to. He finds himself lost in Castiel’s eyes. There’s lighter and darker flecks with depths to them that he’s never noticed before. He feels trapped underneath their scrutiny as their gazes are locked together. Maybe trapped isn’t the right word — more like magnetised and Dean feels as if he’s being drawn in. He doesn’t make any conscious decision to do so but he notices he’s leaning in; notices when he has to angle his face to make sure his nose doesn’t bump into Cas’s. He leans forward, closing the distance further. He feels the huff of Castiel’s breath, warmer and closer than before. He moves to close the final distance when—

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupts, pulling Dean from his reverie. He pulls away from Cas, putting distance between them but doesn’t release his hand from Cas’s back. He’s not going to abandon his friend — even now — especially not now.

Dean turns to look to the voice and sees a mother, both of her hands clasped by children that can be no more than 8 years of age; Dean feels a pang of sympathy for her — remembers trying to wrangle Sammy at that age — not that it ever got easier. She looks apologetic as she nods past Dean to the line, and Dean realises they’ve let the line move further away again.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles, looking to Cas, “shall we then?” he asks, nodding in the direction of the line and entry. 

“Yes,” Cas says, “I want to.”

Dean shoots him a grin, using his hand to gently move Cas forward in the line. “You won’t regret it,” he tells Cas, promising to himself to make the words true.

Dean pays for the tickets and ushers them through, keeping a hand on Cas as he does so. He justifies to himself that he does it to keep Cas close, to keep him safe, and to make sure Cas doesn’t get overwhelmed by the crowd. When he stops at the cart just inside the door to buy them cotton candy he doesn’t break contact with Cas. He moves his hand but presses his shoulder into Cas’s as he grabs for his wallet, before handing the pink ball of sugar to Castiel. 

The look on Cas’s face when he puts the candy in his mouth is almost magical. 

From there Dean takes Cas around the fair, to a ball and cup game that Cas loses badly, not even tempting the cups to fall from their display. Cas observes the outcome with a look of confusion, and Dean feels sorry for him. He takes Cas to the target practice, using all the skills survivalist John Winchester instilled in him to win Cas a toy. Cas picks the Voltron ring, a silly piece of plastic which doesn’t even use up all the points Dean wins, but Dean can’t bring himself to care. 

He passes over the dodge-em cars, instead taking Cas to the Ferris Wheel, standing in a long line and handing over more cash than he usually would, but justifying it as  _ this is Cas’s only chance _ . Cas watches the people with a sort of delight, hands against the window while Dean watches Cas and tries not to think about things like  _ height, and structural integrity, and the boy who looks all of fourteen years of age operating the ride _ . He stumbles off the Ferris Wheel with relief, and does his best to hide his shaky legs from Cas.

They grab hot dogs and walk around the fair, taking in the sights. Dean lets Cas observe everything the fair has to offer and just follows along behind Cas wherever he takes them. Dean’s content to do so until it’s getting late, until the time Dean had been waiting for comes. Only then does Dean interrupt, placing his hand on Castiel’s elbow and directing him to the  edge of the grass field. 

He finds a space not too close and with fewer people, and parks his butt on the grass — instructing Cas to do the same.

“Just do it,” he tells Cas when he hesitates, and is pleased to see Cas does, taking a seat next to Dean, close enough that their thighs press together. Dean can feel Cas’s eyes on him and he catches his gaze, shooting him a grin. Like this Cas is only partially visible, obscured by the darkness that surrounds him but he can still see Cas’s eyes, sharp white and deep blue and Dean could look at them for days. 

The music starts up, dragging Dean from his thoughts, freeing him from the pull of Cas’s eyes. 

“You need to watch this,” Dean says, tilting his head towards the field, “it’ll be worth it.”

He feels a small flush of happiness when Cas does what Dean tells him to — but he tried to push that down. It’s only because he wants Cas to enjoy this — he tells himself. It has nothing to do with Cas, or the feel of his thigh against his own. It’s only for Cas’s sake.

Dean hears the familiar noise over the music, hears the sound of the projectile, and he looks to the sky. His eyes flick over to Cas, and he  notices that Cas is looking at the ground instead of the sky. Dean considers tipping Cas’s chin up so he can look in the right direction, but there’s no time before the sky explodes in shower of light.

Cas gasps, his head shooting up to look at the sky, his neck arching awkwardly to take it all in. The fireworks continue, sometimes multiples ones at once, sometimes big, sometimes small. Dean leans back on his arms so that he can get a better view of Cas watching the fireworks. Cas’s eyes are open in wonder, as is his mouth, and Dean can’t help but appreciate his view of Cas much more than the fireworks.

The music continues, a mix of modern music and a few (questionable, in Dean’s opinion) classics, and when the music picks up, the fireworks increase in frequency and the size of the explosions. Dean knows the show is wrapping up, knows that they always save the best for last. He’s not disappointed when the sky explodes again in a shower of light, and Cas gasps in astonishment at the sight.

Then the field lights up, and the people around them start to move, standing up and leaving the field. Cas is still looking to the sky, and Dean doesn’t move him, just waits as the field empties around them, as the song changes to  _ ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ _ . Finally a song Dean can get behind.

Dean leans forward, bumping his shoulder against Cas’s shoulder. Cas finally looks away from the sky, dragging his attention to Dean, and the fireworks may be over but his face still has the astonishment written all over it. 

Dean forgets how to breathe for a moment.

“How was that?” He says with a cough, when his lungs remind him that breathing is a thing he needs to do.

“Beautiful,” Cas says, his voice heavy and thick with emotion.  _ It doesn’t mean anything _ — Dean tells himself, as he looks at Cas’s eyes, still so bright and clear in the limited lighting.  _ He means the fireworks _ — he tries to tell himself, but it’s difficult when they’re so close, when Cas is looking at him like that — with wonder in his eyes. Cas is giving Dean every signal to proceed — green light full steam ahead — but he has to remind himself that  _ Cas is not human _ . He doesn’t know these signals, isn’t trying to hit on Dean.

Just try telling that to his dick.

He can feel the warmth pooling low in his stomach, leading directly to his groin, and Dean can feel his dick reacting. He shifts a little, pushing his legs out to readjust, but all that does is push his leg closer into Cas — into the warmth of Cas’s leg. Cas’s eyelashes  _ flutter _ in reaction and all bets are off; Dean’s leaning forward, closing the distance between them to press his lips against Cas’s.

Cas’s lips are warm beneath his, softer and gentler than he’d been expecting — not that he’s been thinking of it before. Well... maybe a little. For a moment Cas doesn’t move, and Dean thinks he’s made a mistake, read a signal wrong — turned right when he should have turned left, and he’s preparing to pull back when Cas’s hand find his on the grass, clasping Dean’s fingers with his own. Cas finally presses against his lips. Dean flicks his tongue against Cas’s, licking his lips, first soft, then harder.  When Cas releases a gasp, it’s captured by Dean’s lips and he doesn’t pass up the opportunity to lick his way into Cas’s mouth.

Cas’s tongue is clumsy, all jolts and shoves — but Dean realises that this might actually be Cas’s first kiss, so he takes it slowly and gently, trying to show Cas how it’s done. Cas is a fast learner, licking along Dean’s lips when he withdraws his tongue.

Dean needs more — needs to feel Cas beneath his hands as well, and he brings up his hand not currently being held to Cas’s legs, slipping his hand to Cas’s thigh, sliding it up, up, searching — 

The light shining in their direction causes Dean to pull away, his hand pulling away from Cas’s leg as he breaks the kiss.

Dean looks in the direction of the light and gets the light in his eyes again for his trouble.

“Show’s over,” the owner of the flashlight says, “time to go home folks.”

And yeah — Dean probably should have been expecting that. “We’re on our way,” he tells the guy, standing to prove his point. He has to release Cas’s hand to do so, but he offers it to Cas a moment later, using it to pull Cas up to stand with him. 

“We’re going,” Dean tells the man, not releasing his grip on Cas’s hand as he pulls him along, heading back in the direction of the entrance.

_ ‘Gambler’ _ fades out as they walk towards the entrance, and Dean recognises the crooning sound of _ ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ _ start up. 

_ I'm leavin' on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again. _

It’s appropriate. Cas is leaving tomorrow, and Dean needs to remember that. There was no future here. Cas was getting his little taste of human life and then he was on his way, back to the forest. Dean knew exactly when he’d be coming back again — never.

It seemed pretty par for the course for a Dean Winchester relationship. 

Dean doesn’t talk about it, turning on the radio in the Impala to prevent any conversation. The dulcet tones of Josh Homme fill the car, crooning and filthy, and it’s not appropriate — not even close, but Dean can’t bring himself to change the music.

They don’t talk about it, and Dean is quick to say his goodnight when they get home.

 _Tomorrow_ , Dean reminds himself, tomorrow Cas is leaving, forever.

* * *

Sam comes out early in the morning, bringing with him three hot cups of black coffee. His long hair is pulled back by a beanie and he looks no better rested than he did last time. Dean accepts the offering of coffee, this time adding sugar and milk before taking a sip — Cas chugs his down just as eagerly as he did before.

Dean cooks. Scrambled eggs and bacon for him and Cas and spinach and eggs for Sam. He tries hard not to think about how it feels like a last meal. The last meal of a condemned man before they’re sent to the gallows. It’s not because Cas wants to go back to the forest — wants to find a new home, somewhere he can know and love and lay down his figurative roots. Dean wants that too — wants Cas to be  _ home _ — it’s just that part of Dean wishes that home didn’t have to be so far away.

_ You don’t even know him _ . Dean reminds himself, pushing the thought down. A week and a kiss does not mean he knows the guy. He barely even  _ kissed _ the guy. He’s spent more than one sexy weekend with a partner before they both went their separate ways. This is nothing more than this.

It still feels like he’s losing something.

They pile into the Impala — it would be impossible for them all to fit in the Prius, and honestly, Dean has never, and will never, ride in that thing. Sam takes the passenger seat — his tried and true position, and Cas takes the back seat, sliding into the middle. He’s perfectly poised to catch Dean’s eye in the mirror, but he tries to ignore it. Ignores it as he reverses out of the driveway, ignores it as he drives out through the city, ignores it on the quieter roads Sam directs him to take to the forest. If he doesn’t look at Cas he doesn’t have to think about why they’re actually driving out to the forest.

It’s a shitty illusion and not even a good one, as soon as they get to the forest, Dean has to come to terms with the fact that they’re here to set up Cas with his new home.

And to say goodbye.

Dean tries to ignore the lump in his throat.

“So,” Sam drawls out, when Dean is obviously not planning on saying anything, leaning against Baby and avoiding eye contact with Sam and Cas. “Do you need to be anywhere in particular to do this?”

“Not particularly,” Castiel tells them, “Somewhere close to the centre of the forest will do.”

“Do you want company?” Dean asks, the words blurting out before he’s thought this through. It’s only extending the inevitable, but Dean has always been a glutton for punishment, always willing to throw himself on the line.

“I would like that,” Cas agrees, and Dean forgets that he’s trying to avoid Cas’s attention, and their eyes meet, Dean’s eyes locking with Cas’s bright blues, the eyes which drag him in every time. There’s something there — something Dean can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s  _ something _ .

“I’ll stay here,” Sam says, dragging Dean out of his reverie, “don’t stay out too long.”

Sam opens the door, sliding back into the car and leaning back against the bench seat. 

“Be back soon Sammy,” he says, throwing the keys at him through the window. Sammy’s not gonna leave without him, but just in case he needs them. 

Dean follows Cas as he walks through the forest. He can’t help but be reminded of the time when he first met Cas, when he’d taken them in, sheltered them, fed them, and maybe even saved their lives. This is nothing like that but Dean still thinks of it, remembers the mixture of relief and worry he’d felt when he’d found Cas’s house, when he’d felt saved but also been worried about the  _ cost _ .

Nothing ever came for free — except Cas had given to them freely, had taken them in when they hadn’t been his problem. He hadn’t even been human then, could have left them to their own abilities in the forest that was his true home.

“Why’d you do it?” Dean asks, when the thoughts have been circling round in his head too long — when he can’t take them anymore. “Why did you save Sam and I?”

That stops Cas, his legs stilling, as he turns to look at Dean.

Dean stops too, a careful distance from Cas, carefully outside Cas’s space. He’s so aware of the distance, so used to the lack of distance when Cas sets the space — a week of interacting with the not-man and Dean’s already become used to it.

“Why?” Dean repeats, when Cas doesn’t respond, when it seems like he isn’t going to.

“I wanted to help,” Cas replies, his voice quiet, “I saw you in my forest, and you looked lost. I just wanted to help.”

“Okay,” Dean replies. He turns back to the way they were walking andCas takes a step before Dean is struck with a thought. He reaches out, grabbing Cas’s arm.

Castiel’s eyes are questioning, and Dean drops his eyes to the hold on Cas’s arm instead, looks at his own hand holding onto Cas’s. Cas is still wearing his shirt and the borrowed jeans. They fit a little too well, and Dean will miss them, but a part of him is glad that he is giving Cas  _ something _ to remember him by, even if it’s only a worn set of clothes.

It’s something.

“Thank you,” Dean blurts, and he looks back to Cas’s eyes, lets the eyes capture him again, “I never said it then, and never said it since, but thank you. You probably saved our lives that night, and Sammy and I — we owe you a lot.”

“It was nothing,” Cas says.

“It was everything.” Dean counters. “It was everything, and I know you’re leaving now, back to your forest, and I just want you to know —”  _ that I’ll miss you, that I don’t want you to go, that I want you to stay with me, try being human, that I have so many more things to show you _ “— how much I appreciate it.” Dean tapers off, a little pathetically. He can’t bring himself to take it further — to say anything that could jeopardise Cas’s happiness, could jeopardise what he needs.

“Thank you Dean.” Cas says, his voice soft, and emotion laden. “I uh — I think I can take it from here — if you want to go back to Sam.”

Dean flounders, gripping Cas’s arm tighter in his panic, he wasn’t ready for this — hadn’t prepared himself for this bit.

“I —” Dean doesn’t have anything. If this is it then this is it and he’ll miss Cas but that’s how it is. “I guess this is goodbye,” he says instead.

“Farewell Dean,” Cas says, with a tilt of his head and a soft smile, and Dean tries to memorise it — he should have brought his phone, should have taken a last photo of Cas, something to remember him by now that Cas is walking out of his life, leaving Dean feeling like he’s gasping for air.

It’s hard — to pull his hand from Cas’s arm. To let him go, but Dean does, taking a step back, and moving away from Cas’s space — a little reluctantly. It’s Cas who moves first, taking a step back, then another, until he turns, walking off in the direction they’d been heading.

And soon Dean can’t see any trace of him.

And that’s that.

It takes more time for Dean to convince himself to walk away. He’s not sure how much time passes, only that his legs are starting to get sore. He uses this as motivation to move, he has to get back to Sam anyway, and he needs to get out of the forest. Forests are dangerous places, he thinks a little bitterly.

He follows their tracks, not paying much attention as he walks. His thoughts cycle round Castiel, even as he tries to think of other things, but his brain keeps supplying thoughts of Cas — of teaching Cas to brush his teeth, of teaching him to play cards, of singing to him in the kitchen.

His brain is a dick.

He’s surprised to find the sun is further across the sky then he’d expected when he exits the forest coming to the clearing where the Impala is parked. Sam is asleep on the back seat of the Impala— finally catching up on some well needed rest. Dean gives a sigh, and despite his own mood he’s happy Sam can sleep.

Dean’s in no rush to leave — he doesn’t want to put the final seal on all of this. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the emotion threatening to choke his throat, or the tingling at his eyes. He slides into the driver’s seat, closing the door quietly, and leaning his head back against Baby’s seat. He just needs a moment. Or three. Or more. 

He’s not had anything close to enough when there’s a rap at the window, jolting him from his thoughts. His eyes jerk open it’s too familiar to the sound of a police officer and the once hooligan in him feels a flash of guilt, is already preparing his apology face before he looks to the window — to see a very familiar set of eyes.

“Cas,” he exclaims, and behind him he hears Sam grunt in his sleep. Dean throws the door open, and Cas is clever enough to step back and out of the way as Dean scrambles to get out of the car. He slams the door, ignoring Sam’s grumble at the noise as he grabs at Cas.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, a hand wrapping around Cas’s shoulder “You should be back there. In your forest — in your home.”

“This isn’t my home.” Cas says, and Dean feels ashamed at that. 

“That’s okay,” Dean says, and he feels disgusted at the excitement he feels at that, he shouldn’t be happy about this — Cas needs a home. “We’ll keep looking. We’ll find you a home.”

“I believe I have,” Castiel says. 

Dean’s gaze shoots up to Cas’s, the deep blues he’s become so familiar with now.

“What do you mean?” Dean whispers, afraid to hope.

“I believe that I found my home with you, if you’ll have me.”

“But what about the forest — what about being the forest guardian?”

“My forest is gone now,” Castiel tells him, “This forest doesn’t need me. I gave it back to the forest.”

“So now?”

“Now I am human.” Cas confirms.

Dean can’t hold back anymore — it’s been an emotional day — not that he’d admit it. He uses his hold on Castiel’s arm to pull him in, bumping into Dean as he leans against the Impala, his other hand coming down to rest on Cas’s lower back, and it feels so  _ right _ .

“Your home is with me,” Dean says, not a question , a statement. When Cas nods, Dean uses his hold to pull Castiel tighter, uses the proximity to seal his lips to Cas’s. Castiel melts against him — erasing any thoughts Dean had about whether Cas wanted this. Cas is a quick learner and this time when Dean swipes his tongue over Cas’s lips, Cas opens his mouth, allowing Dean access. He licks his way into Cas’s mouth, savouring the feeling, the taste, the feel of Cas’s body against his own. He thrusts his hips up into Cas’s, the friction a delight against his rapidly responding dick — always keen to join the party. He rolls his hips again, gasping and breaking the kiss at the touch.

“You want to come home with me,” Dean confirms, rolling his hips again just for the sake of it. He’s pretty sure that’s Cas’s erection he can feel starting to make itself known. Cas’s eyes flutter at the pressure, all but confirming his suspicions.

The banging against the window interrupts before he can repeat the movement.

“Hey,” Sam says, when Dean turns, seeing his brother leaning close to the window, “I don’t know what's going on, but can you guys not have sex against the car I’m in.”

“Unclench Sam,” Dean replies, only just resisting from flipping his brother off because it would mean releasing his hold on Castiel, “Cas is coming home, so we can probably wait to have sex on the couch.”

Sam pulls a face, throwing himself back onto the backseat. “You’re disgusting,” Sam grumbles, loud enough to still be heard.

“Come on,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’s arm, “let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a work of many parts. I have so many people to thank and I realised this might take a while so I am moving it downlow where I would normally get this out of the way upfront. Hope that's okay with y'all.
> 
> I hope this is somewhat in order.  
> Thank you to [Jess - thatpeculiarone/ilovetodreamx](https://ilovetodreamx.tumblr.com/) for editing, cheerleading and general support when I was crying over this fic  
> Thank you to [Foxymoley](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/) for editing, cheerleading, and just basically being there for me when I needed it  
> Thank you to [Halzbarry](http://halzbarry.tumblr.com/) for alpha'ing and pointing out some pretty big mistakes.  
> Thank you to [Cass - AlexDamnvers](http://alexdamnvers.tumblr.com/) and [Jen - Wargurl83](https://wargurl83.tumblr.com/)for beta'ing in a pinch.  
> Thank you to Jojo and Muse for organising this and being the best Mods you could ask for.
> 
> And finally thank you ever so much to [SketchyDean](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/) for the amazing art, for their amazing idea, and for their patience with me when midway through it all i took a wild roundabout and asked to do something different.
> 
> WHAT A TRIP.  
> THANKS Y'ALL
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](http://candybarrnerd.tumblr.com/)


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